In the Name of Justice: Chapter I
I forgot to introduce the characters in the last post, so here they are now: Justice and Dreizehn are Asagi, Kircheis is Ruiza, Carbuncle is Tsunehito, Hide-Zou is Rafaga and Hiroki is Wilderness. The narrative also skips around quite a bit in these early chapters, but it should pull together and become obvious soon.
The titles are (mostly) taken from song lyrics as well. The prologue is a literal translation of the name Dreizehn Schwarzschild, and 'Mistake' is from the song Schwarzschild. Please enjoy!
Chapter I
Mistake
It was the beginning of a fresh night, and a single figure stood in the darkness to welcome it. One might even believe him to be part of the furniture, were it not for the person who suddenly approached him from across the hall. The footsteps were hurried against the stone floor, and interrupted the silence that had been accumulating for so long.
“Your Highness.” The second figure stopped a few feet short of the first and gave a small, respectful bow.
It was a few moments before the man was able to tear his eyes away from the scene in front of him and face the other.
“Kranz,” he said quietly, “What’s wrong?”
The second man, Rüstung-Kranz, tried hard to compose himself in front of his superior - it was obvious he’d been heavily concerned about something. “Your Highness, I’ve just heard from the servants that you were spotted outside this morning. They said… They said that you’d stepped into the sun…”
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Three harsh knocks sounded against the door.
The man sitting at his table paused what he was doing and looked up. Within a few seconds, the house was shaken again by the noise of an impatient fist against wood. He sighed moodily, stood up and reluctantly walked across the room, opening the door to reveal a lone figure.
“Judas.”
“Justice.”
The simple exchange of names was enough for an introduction, though none was necessary; this wasn’t the first time the two had met, and despite the face that ‘acquaintances’ was probably too strong a word to describe their relationship, a shaking of hands, or any kind of formality at that, was out of the question.
Judas spoke. “May I come in?”
“If you wish.”
He smiled pleasantly and moved past the man in the doorway. Once inside, he swept his eyes over the furniture and, deciding that there was no obvious threat, took a seat at the table. He was dressed quite differently to the house’s owner, wearing a set of light armour and uniform that showed his roots outside of this land; his hair was brown and skin slightly darker, tanned by the sun.
The other, of a much fairer shade, lingered for a moment before closing the door and replacing himself in his chair opposite Judas.
“Look, I’m going to get straight down to the problem. You know why I’m here, don’t you?”
The reply was low, almost a mumble. “I have my ideas.”
“Hmm, yes.” Judas smirked and slid back in his chair so that he was slumping.
Justice simply stared at him, cold and unmoving. He was a tall man, though that wasn’t to say he was overly-built. His fingers were slim and his face long, with a shapely, set mouth and shoulder-length black hair streaked with white. Unarguably, this was his most striking feature, and something that he’d had from birth.
Judas, his opposite, eyed him from across the table, a grin lifting his features. “You see, I visited you today specifically so I could talk with you face-to-face about something - how do I put it - rather delicate… A legendary object, an artefact, as you may care to call it: the Schwarzschild Sword.”
Justice curled his fingers into a fist under the table, but then unclenched again. “What about it?”
Chuckling, the brown-haired man held up one hand in an open gesture. “What, indeed! I heard you have obtained a lead as to where it is hidden…”
“And you’ve come here to interrogate me.” His sentence was finished for him.
The space between the two men seemed almost electric with the intensity of the moment, only to be broken by the voice of the darker-skinned man.
“Quite the opposite, in fact - no, I’m here to propose a truce.”
Justice raised an eyebrow. “A truce?”
“Yes,” Judas continued. “Give up any information you hold about the Schwarzschild Sword and discontinue your search for it.”
The black-haired man paused before answering.
“Though I have no idea as to how you know that, Judas, I can tell you that you are correct: I have, indeed, managed to pick up a small piece of information regarding the whereabouts of the sword.” He frowned. “However, it is not at all in my interests to give it up to you. If you really want to know, I plan to raise a small army and recover it.” The final sentence was added to taunt the other.
“An army?” Judas mused. “Are you talking about the Guardians? Do they really think they’d listen to someone like you? That’s ridiculous - perhaps I’d laugh if my sense of humour hadn’t been dried by the rejection of my offer.”
Justice merely sat, glowering at the man in front of him. His left hand was resting still upon the table, the urge to reach out and swipe the face of the person in front of him almost too overpowering to bear.
“It just seems like such a shame… I was going to give you my daughter, Netta, as a peace offering.”
“I don’t want your daughter,” he scowled, disgusted.
“No? Well, it’s not as if I understand how your type lives its life, anyway.” A slight smirk pulled at Judas’ lips. “After all, you wouldn’t want that to get out, would you…?”
All of a sudden, Justice made a lunge towards the man in front of him, baring his teeth in fury. His hand flew from the table, but something slammed into it from above, pinning it to the wood again.
Justice froze and stared down at the dagger point wedged between the base of his thumb and second knuckle; his face immediately twisted with silent pain, yet no sound came out.
Slowly, obediently, he sat down, noiselessly gasping at the agony that was scalding his hand. Beneath it, a pool of warm, red liquid was beginning to expand across the table.
Judas’ face was a picture of triumph and satisfaction. “You’re slow, my friend. Tell me - have the years taken a toll on you, or are you just tired?”
The black-haired man was just as shocked - how had he not seen that coming? Normally, sensing someone’s movements was within his normal abilities, but now he felt at a loss. Perhaps he’d let himself be blinded by Judas’ threat long enough to leave himself open for an attack.
“If you tell anyone… I’ll find you and tear you open,” Justice managed to snarl amid the pain.
“Such a shallow threat, but no, I’m not going to betray your trust. After all, I’m your friend, aren’t I?”
The silence returned for a few minutes, only to be broken by the sound of wood scraping against stone as Judas pushed his chair out and stood up.
“Well, I suppose there’s no use trying to dissuade you, and I’m in no mood to try and force an answer, so I’ll just have to leave you here.”
Without paying a further regard towards the other, the man with brown hair walked across the small space of the room, opened the door and stepped outside. However, before closing it, he turned round and faced inwards from the doorway.
“Just to let you know, that sword is mine, and I will find it. If you try to hinder or oppose me in any way, I shall make you suffer in ways… Unimaginable.” Then he nodded his head in a mark of mock respect. “Until we meet again.”
The door closed with a click, yet Justice remained still through the sound of two or three horses rearing into motion; only when their footsteps had died away did he dare to breathe out again.
The visit had been abrupt, though it was one he’d been expecting for a while now. Of course Judas would be in pursuit of the Schwarzschild Sword; it was a legend told all over Marthiel, so the fact that it had spread to other lands was hardly a surprise. He’d always been power-hungry, trying to expand his territory for decades, but this was a step too far. The anger boiling inside Justice was making his head spin - how dare he! The sword was a part of his family, and though its location was unbeknownst to him, he was sworn to track it down and recover it.
Carefully, he wrapped his free hand around the handle of the dagger and pulled, but it was lodged too far between the knots of the wood. His fingers were shaking as he took a second approach, gently moving the knife back and forth in a sawing motion as he extracted it; the process was agonising, though finally, it came loose with a jerk.
Justice thrust the dagger to the side and, gritting his teeth, held up his bloodied hand. Already the flesh had begun to heal over, and the pain was fading with each passing second; within no time at all, it seemed, the wound was gone, as if his flesh were wax being melted with a flame. Only blood and a dull throb remained.
Judas had threatened to tell people what he was, but he wouldn’t let him. If anyone discovered his true nature, then his life here would be over: there would be an uproar, and he would surely be hunted down and killed.
That was why no-one could find out.
He was a creature of the night, a being that lived off the blood of others - a vampire, as the books labelled him. Forty-seven years into his life, he still held the appearance of a twenty-five year-old, and whilst those around him aged with the passing decades, he remained frozen in time, like a broken clock.
For the first time that day, Justice felt a smile pulling at his lips. Despite his anger, he was, in a way, glad for the man’s visit. He’d been loosely wandering for so long, trying to find that one object, but now a timer had been placed on his pursuit. He’d gained an opponent…
He smirked. So it was a race Judas wanted, was it? Well, in that case, Justice was all but obliged to accept.
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